


you give me comfort (i'm with you)

by soobiscuits



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soobiscuits/pseuds/soobiscuits
Summary: Mark may be Donghyuck's first co-pilot, but his emotional baggage seems impossible to get rid of, and Donghyuck grimly rethinks his initial, positive thought of his first co-pilot being his last.





	you give me comfort (i'm with you)

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HAECHAN DAY! <3

_“It’s finally your turn to shine, Donghyuck.”_

_“... I suppose so.”_

_“Get in there, do our family proud. And, for once, it’s not your sister who’s going to be receiving praises from your father.”_

_“I guess so.”_

_“Good. Now, go. They’re waiting for you.”_

_“Yeah, alright.”_

_“Bye, son.”_

_“Bye… mother.”_

 

\---

 

Donghyuck lived in the shadows. 

He dwelled in the darkness, in spaces where light never reached. For sixteen years, Donghyuck has been enveloped in the shadows of his overachieving sister. The sister who received all of his father’s praises, his mother’s love, and everyone else’s attention. It wasn’t that Donghyuck didn’t fight for them, for his parents to look at him. He did, but his childhood years of futile attempts have conditioned him to not try, to not _care_ in the years after. And so, Donghyuck had resigned himself to just be as such, to be the son that the owners of the Lee conglomerate would never love, to be the brother that the sister would never care for. 

To be the Lee Donghyuck that no one would ever bother to look at. 

It was easy to be that way, Donghyuck had found. It was easier to run, to escape, to _flee_ , than to stay and fight for something that would never be yours. Donghyuck eventually learnt that, but through the hard way. 

As a young child, he had been naive and innocent. With reports that should have been picked up by his parents during the parent-teacher conferences, Donghyuck would wait patiently at the door for his parents to return home. Returned home they did but looked at him they didn’t. Disappointment was a feeling that Donghyuck hadn’t understood, then. 

As an older child, Donghyuck had been stubborn. Despite knowing that his parents never seemed to care about him, Donghyuck still harboured the hope that one day they would. Through the years of middle school, he’d still wait at the door for his parents’ return, sometimes with the reports that should have been, once again, picked up by parents during parent-teacher conferences. And, as it always has been since elementary school, returned home his parents did, but looked at him they didn’t. By then, disappointment was a feeling that Donghyuck had an inkling of, but it was a feeling that he refused to acknowledge no matter how many times he’d felt that within him. 

As a teenager, Donghyuck had been resigned. If disappointment was a food item, it would be something that he ate daily. By then, disappointment was a feeling that Donghyuck was, sadly, extremely familiar with. The years of elementary and middle schools have conditioned him to no longer harbour any hope, no matter how minuscule, for his parents to acknowledge him, to even for once _see_ him in their eyes. Donghyuck may have been enrolled in the most prestigious institutions in his schooling years, but not once did he garner the attention of his parents.

His parents whose eyes were always on their daughter.

Donghyuck doesn’t hate his sister, not really. Donghyuck doesn’t genuinely hate her, but he doesn’t genuinely _like_ her, either. It’s hard to have positive feelings for the person who’s always had the attention, the affection, and the love of the very people whom you’ve wanted to be recognised by. It’s hard to have positive feelings for the person who has always engulfed you in her shadows, in her seemingly never-ending stream of achievements. It’s hard to have positive feelings for the person who has always been in the light while you dwell in the darkness, never to be let out to bask under the same sun.

And so, Donghyuck didn’t bother to try anymore. It took him almost twelve years to realise that, although if he is going to be honest with himself, he would like to think that he’s given up on all hopes of ever being acknowledged as a son, as a brother—or as a _Lee_ even—sometime in his first year of high school. It had been the year when Donghyuck seemed to have _grown up_. Literally, of course he has; those legs of his didn’t grow to become a metre overnight.

What Donghyuck meant, however, was figuratively—in terms of his thoughts, his reasoning, his priorities. Gone were the days of a naive and innocent Donghyuck waiting at the door for his parents to return. Gone were the times of Donghyuck wishing for his sister to stop in her tracks and wait for him to catch up. Gone were the days of a stubborn Donghyuck who refused to acknowledge that disappointment was a feeling that he’d feel whenever his family— _can I even call them that?_ —ignored him.

Gone was the Donghyuck who thought he could wait.

 

\---

 

“Are you nervous?”

“A l–”

“I’m nervous.”

The sound of a smack comes from beside him, and Donghyuck turns his head to see Jaemin rubbing the back of his head as he glares at Renjun. “That hurt! Why the hell did you hit me!” 

“Why are you feeling nervous?” Renjun deadpans. His arms are folded across his chest, and there’s an indifferent expression on his face. “You’re not supposed to feel nervous. And I hit you because you’re causing Donghyuck to be even more nervous than he already is.” 

Donghyuck makes eye contact with Renjun just then (even with Jaemin standing in between them), and in his friend’s eyes he clearly sees the concern swirling within, the unsaid _are you alright_ conveyed in the slow blink of his eyes. Donghyuck feels warmed, a chuckle resounding in his chest as he thinks _that’s Renjun for you_. 

Despite having barged quite literally—Donghyuck hadn’t been watching where he was going in the hallway and had bumped into Renjun who bumped into Jaemin who bumped into Jeno—into the friendship triangle of Jeno-Renjun-Jaemin a week after his arrival, it took approximately a month and a half for Donghyuck to fully integrate himself into their routine as the three of them have been together forever and were deployed to Nagasaki a couple of months before he was. They’ve had years to get used to one another and months to accustom themselves to the dome, so it was no surprise that Donghyuck felt rather left out at the start, and he was more often than not lost in the maze that is Nagasaki Shatterdome.

Nonetheless, he’s grateful—and would _always_ be—to them for accepting him, for taking him under their wings. 

Lee Jeno is the sibling Donghyuck wished he had. The young man may be the same age as his biological sibling (and himself), but they’re nothing alike—Donghyuck can attest to that. Countless times of Jeno asking after Donghyuck, of worrying about him getting lost in the dome, of whether the food in the mess hall is to his liking ( _“You do know that you can reject—politely though—receiving this kelp dish, right, Hyuck?_ ), and of other things that Jeno has worried his handsome head over. And most of all, he _waits_. Jeno stops and waits for Donghyuck to catch up. In the corridors, in the Jaeger hangar, practically anywhere within the dome, if he sees Donghyuck behind him, Jeno would stop, extend a hand towards Donghyuck, and wait for the boy to catch up. Lee Jeno really is the sibling Donghyuck wished he had. 

Na Jaemin may be the youngest of the trio (or quartet if Donghyuck counts himself), but Donghyuck thinks he gets along with him the best. While Jeno is the worrywart of the friendship triangle that Donghyuck had barged into and Renjun is, well, the seemingly quiet one, Jaemin is, then, the mood maker of the trio. Despite his predicament with his family, Donghyuck is actually loud, playful, mischievous, _noisy_ when he’s not at home. And that is much like Jaemin. Not to the tee, of course, but their characters and dispositions are similar. Jaemin was the one who first talked to Donghyuck, accepting his apology for bumping into them on behalf of Renjun (because Renjun had scoffed and all but brushed it off without a word). After that incident, Donghyuck found himself speaking to Jaemin a whole lot more. He answered his questions and asked him questions of his own ( _“Why do you hate kelp, though, Donghyuck?”_ ). After a week or so, Donghyuck realised that Jaemin seemed to have taken it upon himself to be his guide of some sort (because he was _everywhere_ he was), and he was glad. If Donghyuck wanted _another_ sibling, he’d wish for Na Jaemin.

(Jaemin was also the one Donghyuck realised he could go to when he’s in need of someone who would gladly converse with him in their native language, which was more often than not because despite having learnt English, Donghyuck still doesn’t like how the language rolls off his Korean-speaking tongue.) 

Like Jeno, Renjun concerns himself with Donghyuck, too. It’s just that his way of expressing his concern is different. _Very_ different. In Donghyuck’s head, Renjun is _a young man of action_. It might seem unbelievable, but for almost three weeks since Donghyuck first bumped into Renjun—and caused a chain reaction of even more bumping—they have never once exchanged a word. They’ve had eye contact, plenty at that, but those didn’t escalate to something more. Whenever Donghyuck thinks about their friendship now though, he’d admit, reluctantly, that he might have been afraid of Renjun. And as a person who would rather flee than face the problem head-on, it wasn’t hard to avoid the, albeit jarring, fact that he couldn’t strike up a conversation with Renjun. Instead, Donghyuck would talk to Jeno, to Jaemin, to Lys Somnium’s maintenance crew member Jisung, and even to Marshall Taeyong. He was able to chat with literally almost _everyone_ on base but Renjun. 

The day when Donghyuck first held a conversation (consisting of more than greetings and a single word) with Renjun for the first time since he arrived in Nagasaki was, ironically, the day he hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone. It was nearing his third month of deployment to the dome but there was still no news of a compatible co-pilot. The Marshall’s sympathetic expression voiced out Donghyuck’s worst fear: he might be decommissioned and would have to be sent home. 

Donghyuck would rather _die_ than return home.

Upon exiting the Marshall’s quarters, Donghyuck had been surprised to see Renjun standing outside. His suspicion that the Lys Somnium engineer-in-charge might have heard everything was confirmed when Renjun grasped Donghyuck’s hand and led him to his shared room with Jeno and Jaemin. There, Renjun spoke to Donghyuck for the very first time, and Donghyuck would never forget his words: _you’ve worked so hard to get here, Donghyuck, so I’m certain that you will get a co-pilot_. 

That was two weeks ago. And now, fourteen days later, Donghyuck is finally going to meet the co-pilot that Renjun said he’d get. 

Donghyuck nods, and smiles when Renjun nods back. He’s still _a young man of action_ but Donghyuck is certain that Renjun is definitely not without words; he just chooses the appropriate time to say them. 

“Ah, I see that everyone is gathered here.”

Donghyuck turns. “Marshall,” he greets.

Marshall Taeyong nods in acknowledgement and does the same when Lys Somnium’s Rangers and engineer-in-charge greet him in turns. A small smile begins to form on his face. “I take it that we’re all excited to be welcoming the newest addition to our… currently less-than-stellar line-up?” 

Donghyuck inwardly winces when he hears the Marshall’s words, knowing damn well what the older man is implying. The current situation at Nagasaki Shatterdome is rather dire, what with the provision of new Jaegers but there is no one on base to pilot them. With the arrival of Jeno and Jaemin (and Renjun), the dome finally has a Jaeger to send out to aid Jaegers from neighbouring domes. Despite their age, both Jeno and Jaemin have shown that age has nothing to do with skills—their consecutive kills and remarkable ability to assist in fights alongside other Jaegers effectively shut up the people who had used their young ages as a pathetic excuse to criticise Marshall Taeyong’s decision to deploy them. 

Now, with the arrival of another pilot, Donghyuck’s assigned Jaeger, Sol Nimbus, will be able to be deployed for missions. While certain of his abilities and skills, as well as his co-pilot’s (having seen his stats), Donghyuck just hopes that his young age won’t be a bane to Marshall Taeyong again.

(It’s not his fault that pilots are getting younger.)

In reply to the Marshall’s question, Donghyuck nods his head and lets his smile do all the explaining. The faltered smile on Marshall Taeyong’s face bounces right back, as though his concern of his dome’s current situation doesn’t worry him. 

“Good, because I think he should be arriving n–”

“He’s here, he’s here! The chopper just landed!”

Amidst Jaemin’s yelling and subsequent groans of pain (no doubt the results of him being hit by Renjun _again_ ), Donghyuck darts his eyes to the chopper that just landed a distance away from them. The anxiety that Donghyuck never got to express bubbles within him, filling his body with the nervousness that he’s been feeling since he received news of his compatibility with a pilot a couple of days before. 

The door opens, and a jeans-clad leg emerges. The rest of the pilot’s body follows, and although Donghyuck is squinting into the distance, attempting to take in the likes of his co-pilot, he finds himself unable to breathe. Because, _oh my fucking god_ , his co-pilot is–

“SO GOOD-LOOKING!” 

It’s Jaemin. And although his limbs are flailing all around, which is distracting Donghyuck a tad, Donghyuck is still unable to take his eyes off his co-pilot who is getting nearer, nearer, and nearer. Donghyuck thinks he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.

The new addition to Nagasaki Shatterdome finally stands in front of the (unofficial welcoming) group. Donghyuck hears Jaemin hyperventilating. He feels embarrassed, briefly wondering if Renjun is going to deal with it (read: _Jaemin_ ) until his thoughts are interrupted and carelessly shoved to the back of his mind when a foreign voice shatters the silence of the dome’s deck. 

“Hi.”

Oh god. That voice. 

“Hi, I am the Marshall of this dome, Lee Taeyong.” A familiar voice pipes up this time. Donghyuck turns to Taeyong, sees a wide smile on his face as he extends a hand. “Welcome to Nagasaki Shatterdome.”

“I’m glad to be here.” 

There it goes again. That voice, low and husky. And— _oh my god_ —as Donghyuck watches a hand reach out to shake the Marshall’s, the thought of him going into cardiac arrest shoots into his head once again because _that is one good-looking hand_. Donghyuck starts to worry about how he’s going to cope being in the same space with his co-pilot. He most definitely _did not_ see this– _this damn good-looking young man_ coming ~~for his heart and soul~~. The passport-sized photograph in the file did _not_ do this young man justice.

“Here we have Rangers Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin, pilots of Lys Somnium, and that’s Huang Renjun, Lys Somnium’s engineer-in-charge.”

“Hey there.”

“Hey, I’m N–”

“You guys can introduce yourselves later. Don’t you have work to do?” Marshall Taeyong interrupts, a brow raised. Donghyuck spies Taeyong darting his eyes in the direction of the entrance of the deck, a clear sign that he wants them gone. 

Always the perceptive one, Renjun immediately understands. He takes a step back. “We do, and we shall be going now, then.” Renjun then fists the collars of both Jeno and Jaemin, after seeing how they have not made any moves to leave. “Nice to meet you.” He turns to Donghyuck. “Hyuck, we’ll see y’all later during dinner.”

Donghyuck nods, and after watching them disappear through the door (with Jaemin still gaping), he gingerly turns back to the person standing in front of him. Now that his friends have gone away and have brought the familiarity that had been silently calming him with them, Donghyuck’s nervousness returns. He hopes that it’s not visible in the smile he slaps onto his face.

“H-Hi, I’m Lee Donghyuck, your co-pilot. Thank you for coming here.” 

Donghyuck knows that he should extend his hand to initiate a courtesy handshake, that he should express just how ~~fucking~~ glad he is that _he_ ’s here. Yet, Donghyuck knows that he cannot trust himself. Knows that he cannot trust that his hand will not tremble and betray the anxiousness laced in his relief which he has hidden beneath his elation.

“It’s my pleasure, Ranger Lee,” says the person. He’s smiling, and Donghyuck momentarily forgets about his worry to inwardly gush when his co-pilot’s cheeks cutely rise with the movement. Yet, the moment Donghyuck looks at his eyes, he immediately notices how the smile doesn’t reach them. They’re not void of emotions; on the contrary, they’re _full_ of emotions. The emotions are just not what Donghyuck has expected to see, to be present in this first meeting with his co-pilot. 

Sadness. Pain. Regret. _Guilt_. 

Having read the person’s file, Donghyuck knows why they’re there, why those emotions are swirling in the eyes of his co-pilot. But it isn’t the time to comment on that, to talk about it. Instead, it is the time to be basking in the happiness of _finally_ having a co-pilot, and that the co-pilot is real and standing right in front of him, smiling, with adorable cheeks. Right there and then, Donghyuck knows that those cheeks will be the death of him someday.

“I’m Mark Lee. Please take care of me.”

 

\---

 

Like everyone else who grew up watching Jaeger-Kaiju fights on television and reading newspaper articles praising Jaeger pilots, a young Donghyuck had entertained thoughts of being a Jaeger pilot. 

He knew what that job entailed, having gone online to research it. As with every occupation, there are pros and cons. Where there are about five articles reporting the remarkable work of Jaegers defeating Kaijus, there would be one article that reports the failure of at least a Jaeger and the deaths of its pilots. It’s a known and demonstrated fact that the bodies of dead pilots can never be retrieved. Nobody ever knows why that is the case, why these pilots’ bodies are left to sink beneath the waves along with the wreckage of their Jaegers, why these bodies aren’t worth retrieving. 

Why these unsung heroes, in spite of their efforts and unfortunate deaths, would never receive the glory that they deserve.

Yet, despite knowing all these, Donghyuck still considered becoming one. It wasn’t that he was not afraid of dying. He was, _is_. Just like everyone else who had witnessed, either in real life or onscreen, the horrifying destruction of Jaegers at the claws of Kaijus and the inevitable demise of the machines’ pilots, Donghyuck was and _is_ afraid. Of dying, of losing his life in a Jaeger. 

Of not being acknowledged for his efforts and ultimate sacrifice.

But he went ahead to become a Jaeger pilot anyway. At the age of sixteen, Lee Donghyuck enrolled in the Academy. He did so without hesitation, having seen the Academy’s advertisement for pilot recruitment in his email inbox. Donghyuck’s decision stemmed from his realisation that his then-current predicament seemed to be no different from that of a Jaeger pilot’s. He wasn’t acknowledged by his family, wasn’t seen by them. He didn’t _exist_ in the eyes of the people he called his parents, his sister. At least, if he managed to become a Jaeger pilot and successfully take down a Kaiju, he’d receive recognition for his efforts. 

He’d receive acknowledgement for being _alive_. 

Knowing that, it’s clear to Donghyuck that his decision to enrol hadn’t wholly stemmed from wanting to become a pilot wholeheartedly. He was afraid of dying, as with everyone else on this (god-forsaken) Earth. But he found that he was more afraid, more _frightened_ of dying without living. Without having someone seeing him, recognising him, acknowledging him for being alive. And, also, Donghyuck knew that it was easier to run than to stay. That it was easier to escape from a place where he would never be able to step into the sun. That it was useless to stay and naively wait for the day where he would be freed from his sister’s shadow. 

So, with that, Donghyuck made up his mind. He knew that he had to inform his parents—even though he _really_ didn’t want to—since the documents required by the Academy needed their acknowledgement. Donghyuck contacted his mother on her personal mobile phone and was put through to her after her secretary picked up ( _“Ugh, businesswomen and their sidekicks.”_ ). Shockingly (or not really, frankly), his mother’s tone perked up and Donghyuck could _hear_ her interest in the conversation the moment he said, _“I’m going to enrol in the Academy to be a Jaeger pilot.”_

The rest of the conversation went smoothly, ending with Donghyuck’s mother promising to send him the signed documents as soon as possible so he could enrol _as soon as possible_. Hanging up, Donghyuck had wished, hoped, _prayed_ that he would never have to contact his mother, or father, even, for the rest of his life. (His prayer came true, for that call was indeed the first and the last.)

After that, for the first time in his sixteen years of life, Donghyuck finally garnered the attention of his parents. For the first time, Donghyuck’s father and mother returned home and sought their son out. For the first time, Donghyuck’s bedroom was occupied by people other than Donghyuck himself. For the first time, Donghyuck was the sole recipient of his parents’ praises, smiles, _acknowledgement_. 

For the first time, Donghyuck was in the eyes of his parents.

Yet, Donghyuck knew that this ‘first’ would also be the ‘last’. And he realised that he didn’t mind. Not one bit, not at all. Donghyuck was relieved, actually. He was leaving— _fucking finally_ —this place he’s been naively calling ‘home’. He was getting away from the people he’s been naively addressing as ‘family’. He was finally escaping from the one place, which, and the three persons, who would never be what and who they were ever again. 

Donghyuck finally has no ‘home’, finally has no ‘family’. He’s on his own, he’s _his own_. And he couldn’t be happier.

 

(Donghyuck wished he could change his last name, but, alas, one can never choose which family he or she would be born in. Though, one can choose how he or she could live his or her life. And that was good enough for him.)

 

\---

 

“Where’s your co-pilot?”

“Having dinner with Taeyong,” answers Donghyuck as he looks up from his miso soup to see Jaemin sliding onto the bench opposite his. Both Jeno and Renjun immediately take the spots on either side of him, and Donghyuck tries hard not to smile at the not-really-subtle smirk both young men shoot at their crew member as Jisung pouts while sitting down next to Donghyuck instead. Although he likes Jaemin, Donghyuck does not understand the appeal that young man seems to possess.

Seemingly oblivious to what just happened, Jaemin smiles and says, “Great, Johnny and Yuta are joining us and we wouldn’t want to have Mark around when we’re going to be gossiping about him.” 

“Why would we be gossiping about him?” 

Jaemin opens his mouth, about to reply when Jeno intercepts, “Because you two are assigned to Johnny’s Jaeger, and he wants to know more about his Jaeger’s pilots.” He points his spoon at Donghyuck, smiles. “He already knows you in person, so Johnny just wants more information about Mark beforehand. Apparently, the file that Taeyong provided him with didn’t answer all of his questions.” 

Donghyuck _ah_ s, nods his head. 

“And–” Jaemin pipes up, only to be interrupted by Jeno who extends a hand towards his face to thumb a grain of rice off a corner of his lips. He thanks him with a smile before continuing, “And I may or may not have pilfered more information from _somewhere_ about our newest friend.” 

Mark Lee, or Lee Minhyung, hails from Vancouver. He moved to Ontario when he was five, his father having been promised a job promotion and a significant raise in salary. There Mark found a friend in his neighbour who, inevitably, grew to become his best friend and, years later, became his co-pilot in a Jaeger. Mark and Wendy’s motivation to enrol in the Academy was similar to Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun’s: they lost their families to a Kaiju attack whilst vacationing together in a seaside town in Korea, was found and admitted into the Academy in Canada, trained in the programme, discovered to be compatible with each other, and were subsequently deemed fit for deployment. 

Mark and Wendy were a perfect team. Their teamwork was impeccable, their minds and movements eerily in sync. Donghyuck couldn’t get Taeyong to reveal the score of their drift compatibility test, but he’d bet anything and everything that it was high. There was no fucking way a pair like them would have a less-than-perfect score; it’s _impossible_. And, much like Jeno and Jaemin, Mark and Wendy quickly impressed everyone with their consecutive kills and remarkable ability to assist in fights alongside other Jaegers, effectively shutting up the people who had used their age as a pathetic excuse to criticise their Marshall’s decision to deploy them. 

For both Wendy and Mark were only fifteen-going-onto-sixteen when they were sent out on their first Kaiju fight.

(Just how _desperate_ was the Earth for Jaeger pilots if even children this young were deemed fit to be deployed?)

Unfortunately, their glory was short-lived. For two years later, there came their last Kaiju fight together. Their last time being in a Kaiju together. Their last time being on Earth together.

Their last time being _alive together_. 

“It was a Category III,” says Jaemin, a rice grain flying out of his mouth, and both Donghyuck and Renjun express their disgust through simultaneous _ugh_ s. Jaemin sends them an apologetic look as he swallows before continuing his report—the report of _more_ information about Nagasaki Shatterdome’s newest pilot he had pilfered off an unsuspecting officer with his cringe-worthy aegyo. “It was obvious that Hurricane Venus could have handled it, but something happened, resulting in an opening for that Kaiju to attack. The Anchorage dome lost contact with the Jaeger immediately after that, but the Jaeger who killed that Category III managed to bring back what remained of Mark’s Jaeger.” Jaemin lowers his spoon, sets it silently on his tray. There is a sombre expression on his face. “The Conn-Pod was badly smashed, but they found Mark in it. He was unconscious, surprisingly barely injured, and alive. Mark’s co-pilot… She… wasn’t in it. LOCCENT thinks she was taken by the Kaiju and, of course, her body would never be found.”

It’s immediate, the deathly silence that enshrouds the table. It’s not new information. The death of Mark’s previous co-pilot isn’t something they just heard. Everyone knew about it at that time, for Wendy’s death had been reported in newspapers worldwide, hidden amongst the numerous articles of success and glory for other Jaegers and pilots who brought down Kaijus. Donghyuck vaguely remembers reading it, recalling the irony of the placement of Wendy’s obituary—it had been placed next to the article that reported the success of the very Jaeger which took down the same Kaiju that killed her. 

“Wait, Jaemin, you forgot to mention something,” Johnny pipes up, pointing his spoon at the Ranger. “You haven’t said what exactly happened that resulted in the opening for the Kaiju to attack.” 

Apprehension floods Jaemin’s face. “Well.” 

Uh-oh. That’s not a good expression, and his tone isn’t convincing. Donghyuck knows that the next thing Jaemin is going to say isn’t going to be something nice, pretty, pleasant. 

He’s right.

“The thing is… I don’t know,” whispers Jaemin as he looks at Johnny, then at Yuta who’s seated next to Sol Nimbus’ engineer-in-charge. “I don’t know because… it…” His voice trembles. His gaze drops from Yuta’s face to somewhere on the table. His hands are placed flat on the table, fingertips pressing into the surface so hard that the tips of his nails have gone pale. Just then, a hand places itself over one of his. It’s Jeno’s. Then, another hand over the other—Renjun. And even though Donghyuck already knows just how much the three of them depend on one another, it’s still incredible to witness how they seemingly _derive_ strength from amongst themselves. Donghyuck would be lying if he says he’s not jealous of such a relationship. 

Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath before saying, “I don’t know anything about that because it wasn’t reported. It… wasn’t stated anywhere. It’s not in any report because nobody knows what happened.”

Silence. Then, Donghyuck breathily whispers, “So, you’re saying…”

“I’m saying that nobody knows because the only person who might know hasn’t said anything about it.” Jaemin lifts his head, looks unabashedly at Donghyuck. 

“It’s been almost two years since Wendy’s death, but Mark still hasn’t once talked to anyone about it.”

 

\---

 

“Good morning.”

Donghyuck freezes, the unfamiliar voice with an accent that he hasn’t accustomed himself to momentarily confusing him. It’s not until a couple of seconds later does he remember that _ah, I have a co-pilot now_. A co-pilot whom he has been sharing his– _their_ room with for almost a week now. Six days isn’t a long time, nor is it a short duration either, but Donghyuck has been sleeping in that room alone for almost three months. It’s definitely alright to attribute his temporary shock to that reason. 

“Mornin’,” Donghyuck mumbles in return, his greeting muffled by the large towel he has over his head as he ruffles his hair dry. He just got out of his routine morning shower, having developed it after realising how quickly cold water wakes him up. (And, he may or may not have been dragged to the bathroom for his first ever cold shower after Jeno couldn’t wake him up during his first week in the dome.)

As the towel obscures his field of vision, Donghyuck doesn’t know that Mark has made his way to him and is standing in front of him until Donghyuck pulls the towel down from his head. A breath immediately lodges in Donghyuck’s throat and his eyes _light up_. 

Even though Donghyuck has seen Mark every morning for the past week, he still can’t get himself to _not_ be in awe of how _fucking good_ Mark looks in all of his morning glory—bed hair that is effortlessly sexy, adorable barely-opened eyes, and a tiny smile accompanied by barely-risen cheeks. Donghyuck hopes his own cheeks aren’t flushed. 

“Is the water warm?”

Not trusting himself to be coherent in this… dangerous situation (or for himself to not fucking drool), Donghyuck refuses to open his mouth, choosing to nod instead. The tiny smile on Mark’s face widens, resulting in a further rising of cheeks and Donghyuck vehemently wills himself to not combust. Yes, Mark’s cheeks (or Mark as a whole, technically) is _that_ powerful.

“Great.” Mark walks over to their shared wardrobe and emerges with a towel. Before closing the bathroom door, he barks, “I won’t take long, so please wait for me and we shall go for breakfast together.”

Looking at the shut door, Donghyuck wonders what he’s gotten himself into. While he’s absolutely delighted to have finally acquired a co-pilot, he’s also absolutely certain about the hardships he’ll be having in the future (no thanks to his fucking good-looking co-pilot). It’s only been a week but Donghyuck feels like he’s _dying_. There’s only so much of– of _Mark_ that he can handle without embarrassing himself (in the form of stammering [which happened on Days One to Four], flushing deeply [Days One to Five], and gaping [Days One to today, Day Six]). Donghyuck is supposed to be the _cool senior_ who would show Mark the ropes around the dome. Gaping like a fucking goldfish isn’t going to make him look… cool. 

(On Mark’s first day, though, Donghyuck, thankfully, hadn’t been this… uncool. He had brought Mark around the dome, introduced him to everyone, and conducted the orientation that Marshall Taeyong was supposed to conduct [Taeyong had thrown the task at Donghyuck, citing _I’m busy and you’re more than capable of doing it_.]. 

If Donghyuck may say so himself, he only gradually became… uncool after he kept witnessing the way Mark smiled every time they met someone and when Donghyuck brought him to new locations within the dome. The killing blow that shattered the gates containing Donghyuck’s un-coolness was when their Jaeger, Sol Nimbus, came into view and Mark’s face _lit up_. The usual set of emotions that Donghyuck kept seeing in his co-pilot’s eyes vanished, and in them suddenly swirled a brand-new set of emotions. 

Surprise. Delight. Happiness. _Relief_.

Donghyuck hadn’t understood why Mark would be relieved but, whatever, he’ll take it. He’ll gladly take these new emotions over the ones that have been subtly simmering within Mark’s eyes. Those orbs of his are too beautiful to be sad. 

And that face of his is far too good-looking to be downcast.)

Ugh, Mark Lee. His good-lookingness is a confound Donghyuck hadn’t expected and wasn’t expecting. But now, if he doesn’t get himself together and _fucking get a grip Lee_ , Donghyuck thinks that his days with Mark are about to get a whole lot interesting (hopefully not in a bad way).

Surprisingly, he can’t wait.

 

\---

 

Days with Mark are supposed to be _interesting_. Yet, as Donghyuck recalls the past two weeks, there’s only a word that could describe his days. 

Death. 

Donghyuck really feels like he’s about to die.

“I can’t,” he pants, falling onto the cushioned floor like a puppet without its strings being held. His back hits the floor with a soft _thump_ , and Donghyuck throws his limbs out in all directions. “I can’t continue, Mark. I can’t.”

A chuckle that still sounds unfamiliar to Donghyuck comes from beside him, and he slowly turns his head in that direction. The sight of Mark—hair wet and dripping perspiration, face a healthy shade of pink, collarbones glistening, a tank strap hanging off a pale shoulder, toned arms shamelessly on display—renders him speechless. Then, the appearance of risen cheeks with a smile.

And Donghyuck goes breathless. 

Yet, while he struggles to gulp down air to replenish his oxygen, Donghyuck notices how his co-pilot’s eyes are swirling with the same set of emotions he’s been seeing since the first time they met. It’s been fourteen days, and Donghyuck finds himself, often unconsciously, observing Mark to catch the emotions in his eyes. He is intrigued. He’s curious to know when does Mark feel either one of the two sets of emotions: the negative—sadness, pain, regret, guilt—or the positive—surprise, delight, happiness, relief. Of course, Donghyuck would always want his co-pilot to experience the set of positive emotions, but from these past two weeks of observation, he discovers that apart from meal times and Kwoon Room training, Mark’s orbs are more than often containing the set of negative emotions. 

And, Donghyuck doesn’t know what to do. He feels compelled to _do something_ , to— _I don’t know_ —help, or something along those lines. He wants to rid his co-pilot of those emotions. But Donghyuck doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say to make those feelings go away. Mark has a pair of beautiful eyes, and Donghyuck has seen just how gorgeous they are when they’re not swimming with negativity. The clarity and innocence in them have caused his breaths to hitch, to lodge in his throat as he vehemently wills himself not to _fucking blush_. Donghyuck has seen how they brighten, lighting up the moment Mark rests his eyes on the food items laid out on the mess hall’s counter during meal times. Donghyuck has also seen how they fire up and burn with ambition the instant Mark steps onto the training mat in the Kwoon Room (and quickly whoops Donghyuck’s ass). 

Mark really does have the most beautiful eyes Donghyuck has seen (and this is coming from a person who has met Jaemin, the one person with large, beautiful eyes as well). And they really shouldn’t be holding onto those negative emotions all the time. But Donghyuck doesn’t know what to do. He really doesn’t. And sometimes, or most of the time really, it kills him on the inside to be this helpless.

To be this useless. 

Disappointment is a feeling he hasn’t felt in a while, but it’s been gnawing at him these days.

“You’re improving, Donghyuck,” says Mark as he folds a towel neatly into a square before dabbing it all over his face. “You barely lasted a minute against me a week ago, but just now you managed four minutes!” The towel leaves his face then, his hand moving it down to his neck and (sexy) collarbones; Donghyuck hastily tears his eyes away, choosing to look at Mark’s eyes instead. “And, you even scored a point off of me!”

Mark’s eyes are bright now. They’re clear of the emotions that were swirling in them moments ago, and Donghyuck tries not to think of how he may be the reason for the disappearance of Mark’s negativity. He fails, and a tiny smile visits his face. 

“You’re improving,” Mark reiterates, still smiling that small, adorable smile of his. He scoots closer to Donghyuck, a sweaty knee prodding Donghyuck’s equally-sweaty left arm. “Your stamina is getting better so stop saying that you’ll die when we both clearly know that you won’t.” 

Then, suddenly, Mark starts to dab his towel all over Donghyuck’s face. And Donghyuck forgets to breathe, again. 

In his defence, Donghyuck would like to say that he’s surprised. It’s not that Mark hasn’t done something similar to him prior to this… interaction, not when Donghyuck has had his hair towel-dried by Mark _every night_ since the first night Mark saw how wet Donghyuck’s hair was after his shower and he immediately went _excuse me but you’re going to catch a cold if you’re sleeping with your hair this wet_. 

But this time it’s different. 

Mark may have been doing something similar all this while but this time it’s different. Donghyuck feels that it’s _different_.

Also, this is Mark we’re talking about here. This is the person, the co-pilot who came just in time to save Donghyuck from having to return home without having proved himself, without having _lived_. This is Mark Lee who, at first sight, rendered Donghyuck breathless (and unknowingly stole his heart). Donghyuck doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but this young man— _fucking Mark Lee_ —proved him wrong. 

And Donghyuck has never been so happy to be wrong.

Although Mark has dried his hair with a towel for the past thirteen nights, Donghyuck still feels embarrassed. It’s different— _different_ —this time. When Mark dries his hair, Donghyuck is seated at the table. Although a small mirror hangs on the wall above the table surface, Donghyuck chooses not to look at it (for fear of extreme blushing and subsequent embarrassment). He doesn’t have to face Mark, doesn’t have to face the reality that Mark’s eyes are on him (or, well, his hair really). 

This, though. This dabbing of his face is not like that. It’s not the same, for Donghyuck _has to_ face Mark. He _has to_ acknowledge the reality that Mark’s eyes are on him, that they’re actually _looking_ at him (and not at his hair). Having to face the person whom you’re crushing on is something that Donghyuck has done a number of times back when he was still schooling, but this– this is different. 

Donghyuck _feels_ the difference. 

And it’s with this realisation of knowing that _this is not the same as all the others_ does Donghyuck register that his feelings for Mark have grown. That it is growing without a cause, that it is growing exponentially. And that it can _only_ grow. 

At that moment, Donghyuck realises that he truly likes Mark.

Realises that he might grow to _love_ Mark in the future, even.

That should be a happy thought. It should be. But to Donghyuck it’s frightening. It is a frightening thought that Donghyuck thinks that he should not be harbouring.

As much as he wants to not regard it as so, as a scary thought, he can’t help but think like that. The realisation that he likes someone, that he might grow to love them someday inexplicably scares him. As a person who has never received any form of genuine affection from anyone, who has never needed to give any form of genuine affection either, and as a person who is currently in this dangerous field of work, Donghyuck finds this thought terrifying. It’s bold. It’s dangerous. 

It’s ominous.

It is as though this thought is going to pave a one-way road to consequences. Consequences that Donghyuck has an inkling of but doesn’t want to acknowledge. _Yet_. 

“Donghyuck?”

At the call of his name, Donghyuck snaps out of his thoughts. His vision gradually sharpens back to high definition, and he finds Mark looking down at him. Concern visibly defines his facial features and Donghyuck mentally chides himself for causing his co-pilot worry. 

“Are you alright?” Mark probes, and Donghyuck feels softness at his forehead as Mark continues to dab his towel all over Donghyuck’s face. “You spaced out just now. I got worried.” 

He’s careful, Mark. The towel avoids Donghyuck’s eyes, nostrils, and mouth, gently venturing around his face to absorb perspiration. Mark applies more strength when he’s dabbing harder on Donghyuck’s cheeks, chin, and forehead, while he decreases the pressure on the nose, philtrum, and the delicate area under the eyes. Donghyuck feels overwhelmed realising this. Realising that Mark is this conscientious, cautious, and thoughtful. 

Realising that he is, indeed, stepping into dangerous territory with these feelings he has for his co-pilot. 

Donghyuck tries not to think about the consequences. He rejects the negativity to eagerly embrace positivity—he thinks about Mark instead. He thinks about how it’s almost going to be Mark’s third week at Nagasaki, about how he became fast friends with their Jaeger’s engineer-in-charge because Mark visits Sol Nimbus every single day after lunch, and about how he _still_ dries Donghyuck’s hair each night (even though there’s a hair dryer in the bathroom).

It’s ironic. It’s paradoxical how Ranger Lee is both Donghyuck’s dark and light. His downfall and salvation. And there are no choices, no other options for Donghyuck; he can’t choose either one because _both_ are Mark. How is Donghyuck to choose? He can’t. He really can’t.

So, he doesn’t. Donghyuck doesn’t choose. 

He just _lives_. Lives in this present where Mark is beside him (still sweetly dabbing at his face while smiling that frustratingly handsome smile of his) and probably won’t be going away any time soon.

And that in itself is more than enough for Donghyuck.

 

\---

 

Donghyuck would be lying if he said that he isn’t at all nervous.

“Relax,” Renjun says, hands massaging Donghyuck’s shoulders as they wait for Mark in the corridor. Donghyuck had hurriedly changed into his Drivesuit with his eyes fixated on a spot on the ground to prevent unnecessary wandering, and immediately darted out of the room with a(n unfortunately high-pitched and squeaky) _see you outside Mark_. It was embarrassing; Donghyuck wants to dig a hole and never resurface. 

“You’ll do fine.” Oblivious to Donghyuck’s thoughts, Renjun continues to gently massage his shoulders, fingers applying a comfortable pressure onto them. “ _Both_ of you will do just fine.”

Donghyuck looks up from his hands, ignoring the fact that they’re trembling slightly due to his jittery nerves. Renjun’s smile, bright and pretty, is all he sees, and in that moment Donghyuck feels at ease. He feels thankful for Renjun’s presence, feels _infinitely_ grateful that he has him. Donghyuck smiles back.

“Renjun? You’re here?”

At Mark’s voice, Donghyuck whirls around. His eyes instantly blow wide, and his breath hitches. 

Clad in his Drivesuit, Mark walks out of their Jaeger's Drivesuit Room, his boots making _thunk thunk thunk_ noises as he crosses the space with his helmet tucked under an arm. There's a smile on his (good-looking) face and right there and then, Donghyuck wants to die (again). He truly _feels_ like dying. (Or if dying isn’t an option, he would like to dig a hole again and never resurface.)

While Donghyuck has already admitted to himself on Day One that his co-pilot is handsome, this sight— _this fucking sight_ —that greets him is exponentially amplifying Mark’s good-lookingness (and skyrocketing out of Donghyuck’s threshold for handsomeness). The black-coloured Drivesuit sticks to Mark’s body, outlining curves that Donghyuck somewhat knows of (having caught glimpses of them because Mark has a [bad?] habit of emerging from the bathroom in just his sweatpants). Donghyuck barely stifles a moan. 

To prevent embarrassing himself, he swiftly (but reluctantly) darts his eyes up, bypassing Mark’s body, to his face instead. It’s probably not all that safe but definitely ought to be _much better_ than staring at his co-pilot’s body. 

Donghyuck’s not wrong, but not completely correct either.

Mark’s face holds a smile. A bright smile which Donghyuck can tell is genuine, for it reaches his co-pilot's eyes, filling them with the set of positive emotions that Donghyuck had wished for Mark to feel always. Upon realising this, Donghyuck can’t help but let his nervousness seep out of him, allowing genuine delight to fill in as its replacement. A tinge of nervousness, however, remains.

The corridors of Nagasaki Shatterdome have always been rather dark, the incandescent bulbs that dangle from the ceilings providing only sufficient amount of brightness to light everyone's paths. Donghyuck recalls feeling afraid the first time he stepped into the dome, the dimness of his new surroundings, his new _home_ , an entirely opposite visual from the bright, sunlit streets of Nagasaki. And while Donghyuck has always lived in the shadows, he believes that he doesn’t belong there.

Finds himself afraid even though he has dwelled in the darkness for so long.

Mark isn’t standing directly in the beam of yellow light from a bulb. He’s a step ahead, his front engulfed in slight darkness while his back is lit up. In that moment, as Donghyuck takes in the entirety of Mark, he suddenly feels afraid. He feels as though he has gone back in time to when he was still living– _no, staying_ with the people he once called family. The shadows surrounding Mark remind Donghyuck so much of the darkness he once lived in, of the uncertainty that stubbornly haunts him to this very day.

Donghyuck feels afraid, but his fear is not unfounded, and his uncertainty is not without reason.

He’s about to attempt a Neural Handshake with Mark. While a Neural Handshake might not seem to be such a huge matter, it is to Donghyuck. As the only pilot in his batch who was found not compatible with any other, Donghyuck’s self-esteem and confidence had taken a great hit. As the only pilot in recent batches to not graduate as a co-pilot, Donghyuck couldn’t help but feel uncertain once again about his future. He wants to pilot a Jaeger, wants to help rid the world of those damned Kaijus, wants to show the world what he can do.

Wants to prove to himself that he is _living_. 

And now he can. 

After all those gruelling weeks of training in the Academy, all two and half months of living in the painful uncertainty of getting a co-pilot or returning home, all almost-four weeks of living and training with Mark, Donghyuck is _finally_ about to step into a Jaeger.

 _His_ Jaeger. 

But he feels scared. Although the fear is substantiated and justified, it doesn’t change things. Donghyuck _is_ afraid. 

It’s not going to, however, stop him from wanting to attempt the Neural Handshake with Mark. This is his first ever Handshake (and with a handsome co-pilot that he rather fancies to boot); Donghyuck would be a fool to let his fear stop him. Yet, it still doesn’t prevent him from feeling what he currently feels. 

While Donghyuck knows that he has every right to feel this way, that his fear is not unfounded and not without reason, he reckons that he still _shouldn’t_ feel this afraid. Donghyuck knows his co-pilot. He knows Mark Lee. Donghyuck _knows_ that he and Mark have been sharing a room, have been training together, have been eating meals together, and generally have been by each other’s sides for almost a month. They’ve been practically glued to each other’s hips, breathing in each other’s air. 

He knows Mark. Donghyuck _knows_ his co-pilot but there’s just something inside of him, something within that whispers to him, making him feel what he’s feeling. 

_You think you know him, but you actually don’t._

_To you, Mark is but a stranger._

It’s true. If Donghyuck hadn’t regarded Mark as his _friend_ , his co-pilot might as well be a stranger. Donghyuck has never once asked about Mark’s past. He’s curious, yes, but Donghyuck doesn’t think that he’s in any position to ask his co-pilot about his time at Anchorage Shatterdome. Mark himself has also never taken the initiative to share. So, apart from the basic information in the file Marshall Taeyong gave to him as well as the information Jaemin had pilfered, Donghyuck actually knows close to nothing about his co-pilot. And when you know almost _nothing_ about someone, wouldn’t you naturally feel afraid to let that someone into your head? 

Donghyuck feels afraid, but that is okay because his fear is not unfounded, and his uncertainty is not without reason.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at LOCCENT watching over Lys Somnium?” Mark asks, his head tilting to the side. It’s adorable, the way a question mark can be seen in his expression, and although Donghyuck is feeling apprehensive, he bites back a coo. This momentary lapse somewhat quells a little of his fear and uncertainty. 

Donghyuck’s co-pilot really is both his downfall and salvation, his dark and light.

“They’re only assisting. It’s not a big deal,” Renjun replies, shrugging his shoulders. “They can live without me breathing down their necks for at least ten minutes.” He glances at Donghyuck. “Besides, I’m more needed here.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, only to let out an involuntary squeak when Renjun pulls him into his arms. If moments before Mark had (unknowingly) assuaged a tad of Donghyuck’s fear, now Renjun has relieved him of most of it. Donghyuck definitely feels more relaxed, a tiny sigh of relief slipping past his lips as he returns the hug, pressing his face into the softness of his friend's (hopefully not _that_ greasy) cotton tee. He feels calm, and Donghyuck mentally thanks Renjun for this much-needed hug.

Ignoring Renjun’s murmur of _did you just kiss my neck_ , Donghyuck removes himself from him, only to let out a genuine, sincere bark of laughter when Mark pouts and grumbles, “I want a hug, too, Renjun!”

And who could deny that ( _ugh why so cute_ ) young man of anything when he’s like that?

 

“We’ll do fine.”

Donghyuck looks up from his boots to his right, where his co-pilot is strapped in. Past the reinforced glass of Mark’s helmet, Donghyuck sees a smile. 

It doesn’t reach Mark’s eyes. Donghyuck’s heart wrenches.

“How do you know that we’re going to be–” Donghyuck hesitates, only continuing after taking a tiny, reassuring breath. “–fine? How do you know that? How can you be so confident, Mark?”

The smile on Mark’s face doesn’t waver. It doesn’t wane in the face of Donghyuck’s blatant insecurity. It stays, steadfast and strong. And Donghyuck briefly wonders if that is Mark’s true character. 

“Aren’t you– Are you not afraid of showing your memories to me?” 

_Are you not afraid of exposing your soul, your entirety to me?_

Mark is still smiling. “I have nothing to hide from you, Donghyuck,” he says, softly. “I have no secrets worth hiding.” A hand crosses the distance between them to rest on Donghyuck’s shoulder. It’s warm. Comforting. “You already know me.”

 _Do I_ , Donghyuck immediately thinks, and he bitterly chuckles inwardly at how fast his mind had unhelpfully supplied that thought.

_Do I truly know you, Mark Lee?_

“Rangers, if you’re done chatting, I’d suggest getting ready.” A dismembered voice suddenly fills the Conn-Pod and Mark gives Donghyuck one last smile before removing his hand from his shoulder, taking with it his warmth. Donghyuck’s brows furrow.

“Sorry, Marshall,” Mark quickly apologises. “It’s Donghyuck’s first Neural Handshake in a real Jaeger so he was feeling nervous. Plus, it’s our first legit Neural Handshake together.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “Even _I’m_ nervous.”

 _Liar_. 

Donghyuck turns to look at his co-pilot, the word at the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t blurt it out. These two months with Mark tell Donghyuck that his co-pilot seems to be _anything_ but nervous. While Donghyuck’s gut tells him that Mark isn’t feeling anything, his heart says otherwise. It highly reckons that its owner’s co-pilot feels resigned. That he’s only here because he has nowhere else to be, that he may not even want to be here. 

As someone who values heartfelt thoughts, Donghyuck can’t help but acquiesce with his heart. And the expressionless visage behind Mark’s helmet seems to confirm his assumption. Where is the nervousness he was just talking about? Was that all bullshit? A lie? Donghyuck doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know what to feel. 

His uneasiness returns.

Mark suddenly turns to him, no longer expressionless; there’s a smile on his face, cheeks risen. “Ready to be in my head, co-pilot?”

_No, I’m not._

_And I don’t know if I ever will be._

Of course, Donghyuck doesn’t say that. He’d be singlehandedly destroying his future with those words. Instead, he just nods, musters up a smile with whatever sincere excitement he still feels. Donghyuck _knows_ that the smile doesn’t even reach the apples of his cheeks. “You?” 

“Of course. Can’t wait to discover Ranger Lee’s dirty secrets.” 

Despite the mischievous grin on his face, there’s absolutely no hint of playfulness in Mark’s tone and his eyes are swirling with the negative set of emotions. Not knowing how to respond to that, Donghyuck just smiles again. 

It’s not hard to feel that his smile is a mirror of his co-pilot’s—neither reaches their eyes.

With his lips slightly parted, Mark looks like he wants to say something. Yet, a heartbeat later, he just shakes his head and turns away. Donghyuck looks at his co-pilot’s side profile for a couple of seconds after that, then he, too, turns away. Even though he’s been in Sol Nimbus countless of times, the front of ~~his~~ their Jaeger’s Conn-Pod never looked so foreign, never made Donghyuck more nervous than he is right now. 

“Initiating Neural Handshake.”

Donghyuck unconsciously inhales, probably louder than he thought he did because from the corners of his eyes, he makes out Mark suddenly turning to look at him. That’s all there is to it, unfortunately, for something is beginning to lightly tug at his mind. Just before Donghyuck succumbs to the pull, he remembers a set of words by an instructor back in the Academy. 

_“Remember, don’t chase the rabbit. Random access brain impulse triggers memories. Just let it flow, don’t latch on. Tune them out. Stay in the drift.”_

_Don’t chase the rabbit. Stay in the drift._

_Let it flow. Don’t latch on._

_Don’t latch on, Donghyuck, don’t._

And then, Donghyuck lets his eyes flutter shut, lets himself go.

“Pilots engaged in Neural Bridge.”

 

It’s bright. 

That’s what Donghyuck registers the moment he opens his eyes. Instinct has him surveying his surroundings, head whipping around wildly as he tries to get his bearings. 

Donghyuck doesn’t recognise anything, everything around him is foreign. There’s the ocean to his right and a seemingly endless row of shops to his left. Donghyuck looks up to a beautiful azure sky. When he looks down, pristine ecru sand is beneath his boots. As confused as Donghyuck may be as to where the hell he is, one thing is certain—he’s no longer in Sol Nimbus’ Conn-Pod. 

Taking a tentative step forward, Donghyuck almost falls over, his body not accustomed to the weight it’s carrying on soft sand. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Donghyuck rights himself and tries walking again. He manages to haphazardly stomp his way over to the shops without toppling over a second time, and when the shops gradually come into view, his eyes light up. 

_Korea_ , Donghyuck excitedly thinks as his eyes rapidly dart all around, greedily registering the various Korean characters appearing in his sight. _I’m not totally lost._

_I’m somewhere in Korea._

But _where_ in Korea is the next question Donghyuck wonders about as the excitement in him starts to fizzle out and he feels a tad tired walking about in his clunky Drivesuit. Also, the _thunk thunk thunk_ of his boots on the tar pavement is grating on his nerves. 

It’s strange though.

As Donghyuck walks on, his feet taking him down the street, he begins to feel uneasy. Something’s clearly not right here. There’s the beach, but it’s empty. He’s standing in a street, but it’s crowd-less and silent. Also, there are shops, but they’re closed, their metal shutters rusty, like they could disintegrate with the slightest touch. Donghyuck stops and scrutinises a shop, only to belatedly realise in horror that if he hadn’t recognised the logo of the franchise convenience store (barely hanging on to the storefront by a wire), he wouldn’t have known that it’s one. Or _was_ one.

He steps forward, about to peer into its grim-looking glass panes when a loud sob shatters the eerie silence. Donghyuck jumps, startled by the noise. He whirls around, looking for the source of the first sound he’s heard since he found himself here. Fortunately, the sob comes again and Donghyuck immediately snaps his head in its direction. The next sob has him running.

A boy.

Donghyuck skids to a stop the instant he spots him. Under a pink umbrella crouches a boy, eyes squeezed tight, hands cupping the sides of his head and over his ears. From where he is about a couple of metres away, Donghyuck hears the boy’s punctuated sobs. He quickly scans the child, taking in his torn clothes as well as the open cuts and scrapes on his exposed skin. There’s a rather gruesome-looking wound on his cheek that’s bleeding badly and Donghyuck inexplicably worries about infection.

Something suddenly flickers behind the boy and Donghyuck tears his eyes away from him. It is then does Donghyuck see it.

Wreckage. 

Everything around the boy and Donghyuck is wreckage. There is nothing around them that’s standing. Donghyuck slowly pivots on the spot, his uneasiness rising along with his disbelief. Then, he freezes. 

_Fuck_. 

Unadulterated fear instantly floods Donghyuck when he spies an inhumanely— _fucking inhumanely_ —large footprint in the cracked tar, its shape _nothing_ like what Donghyuck has ever seen in real life. It can only mean one thing.

A blood-curdling, beastly screech.

Kaiju.

Another screech that Donghyuck has only ever heard in videos fills his ears, and he suppresses the overwhelming urge of dropping to his knees to snap his head up to see a Kaiju clawing his way through two neighbouring buildings. Confusion washes over Donghyuck upon seeing the structures but he barely has the time to register the changing scenery around him when he hears a scream.

Donghyuck’s eyes instinctively dart around trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, but it’s hard to do so. It’s a challenge to wholly focus on the task when there’s a fucking Kaiju screeching overhead and it’s taking _all_ of Donghyuck not to just _lie down and cry_. 

There’s that goosebumps-raising scream again. This time though, Donghyuck doesn’t have to search for the source because, in the next moment, a small figure comes running into the alley he’s in and Donghyuck immediately zooms in on the eye-catching item clutched in the–

Oh god. It’s him.

It’s the young boy Donghyuck saw crouching under the pink umbrella.

The young boy lets out that hair-raising scream again when a foot of the Kaiju comes crashing down on the ground behind him, bits of tar and large fumes of dust billowing after him as he hurtles deeper into the alley, only to stumble forward and fall. The boy lands on his face, and Donghyuck unconsciously whimpers when he sees red dotting the boy’s milky-white countenance. The bad cut on his cheek is still bleeding. Yet, despite all that, the pink umbrella remains cradled in the boy’s arms. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how treasured that item is.

The boy doesn’t get up from the ground. He lies on his side, face scraped and bleeding, clothes torn, tattered, and drenched in red. A foot is missing a sneaker and his hair is in absolute disarray. The young boy is in a huge mess, both literally and figuratively. 

Although Donghyuck knows that it’s not reality, that none of this is real, he desperately _wants_ to step forward and help the boy. And when he’s about to, having lifted a boot and about to take that step–

“MINHYUNG!”

The boy instantly springs to his knees, not in the least caring about how the gravel would dig painfully into his already-injured kneecaps. His head snaps to the direction of the street, lips parting to mouth something that Donghyuck can’t hear. 

“ _MINHYUNG!_ ”

The name rings a bell. Donghyuck knows he definitely heard it from somewhere, but he’s distracted from his thoughts when another child suddenly appears in the alley and–

“Seungwan!” The boy immediately yells, scrambling to his feet. The pink umbrella still in his arms. “ _SEUNGWAN!_ ”

–it’s a girl.

Oh. 

The foot that Donghyuck has in the air drops back down to the ground. Then, he watches as the girl throws her arms around the boy and, together, they start to sob uncontrollably as though there’s no Kaiju loitering near them.

Donghyuck knows now.

Although he had been afraid that he’d be the one who would commit the things that Rangers should never do during drifting, Donghyuck wasn’t the one who chased the rabbit. He wasn’t the one who didn’t allow the memories to flow. He wasn’t the one who _latched on_.

It was Mark. 

It was _Minhyung_ who hadn’t stayed in the drift. And now, Donghyuck knows the reason why.

 

\---

 

Nagasaki isn’t all that different from Seoul and Busan. 

The cities are all concrete jungles. Numerous skyscrapers make their home in Seoul and although Busan doesn’t possess as many skyscrapers as its Korean counterpart, it does, however, boasts a diverse array of interesting buildings. Gamcheon Village used to be a location Donghyuck loved visiting whenever the Academy gave them off-days. Strolling amongst the colourful homes would effectively brighten up his mood and lighten the I’m-not-compatible-with-anyone burden he constantly carried on his shoulders. And seeing the Little Prince figure would give him hope that somewhere out there was a Ranger that would be compatible with him. All Donghyuck should do was to be patient and wait.

_It is only with the heart can one see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye._

So, when Donghyuck arrived in Nagasaki, he didn’t find himself particularly out of place in the new city. Granted, he wasn’t given the time and leisure to fully explore the city, but Donghyuck remembered not feeling all that different from when he was living in Seoul or studying in Busan. 

(Perhaps, barging into the friendship of Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin helped. Being taken under their wings and being taken care of by these same-aged peers enabled Donghyuck to easily assimilate into the new, foreign environment. And that, strangely, most of Nagasaki Shatterdome’s personnel hailed from Korea. 

At times, Donghyuck felt like he never left Korea to begin with.)

Having drifted with Mark once, Donghyuck realises that his mind is now connected with that of his co-pilot’s. Whether he likes it or not (usually he likes it), Donghyuck occasionally catches glimpses of Mark’s hometown in the most unexpected and spontaneous of times. 

And he discovers that Vancouver isn’t all that different from Nagasaki, either. 

It is a concrete jungle as well, its land littered with buildings and structures. And as with Nagasaki, Vancouver is also a city built right next to the ocean. Donghyuck remembers a particular snippet of a young Mark happily building sandcastles on a beach, only to burst into tears when the waves came and swept them away. He also once caught Mark watching sea creatures in tanks, which Donghyuck later googled to be a tourist attraction called the Vancouver Aquarium. Stanley Park was a location Donghyuck recalls being fairly interested in after seeing Mark running through its trees and jumping into bundles of pretty autumn leaves of red, orange, and yellow.

Mark had looked so happy then, and Donghyuck can’t help but wonder when did the happiness disappear from his eyes. 

(Donghyuck, of course, knows exactly _when_ but he just can’t help himself from thinking that way.)

Although Mark has only stayed in Vancouver for a short five years, Donghyuck finds that _all_ of the sudden glimpses into his co-pilot’s past were from those years. He hasn’t once experienced Mark’s past from when he moved to Ontario and subsequently met Wendy. 

“Is it because he isn’t ready to fully let me into his head?” Donghyuck asks the moment Renjun opens the door and Donghyuck shoulders past his friend despite seeing the young man’s pursed lips. He plops onto Jeno’s bed and grabs the Moomin plushie that’s on it, pointedly ignoring the glare that Renjun sends his way. “Do you think he’s doing it on purpose? Not letting me see his memories from those years.”

Renjun wrenches his Moomin out of Donghyuck’s arms, sticking out his tongue when Donghyuck whines in protest. “I don’t think so,” he says as he drops to the floor, crossing his legs before gently placing the plushie in the space between them. Renjun rests his head on Jeno’s mattress and lifts his eyes to look at Donghyuck. “I may not know much about Neural Drifts but I don’t reckon one can control what they want the other person to see.”

Donghyuck sighs, jams his chin into the zipped-up collar of his hoodie. “While I’m glad to be able to catch glimpses of his childhood, I also really want to see that neighbour of his as well.” He tapers down to a breathy whisper, eyes growing dark with disappointment. “I want to know more about her, about Wendy, about Seungwan.”

“Can’t blame you for wanting to know more,” Renjun replies wistfully. The smile on his face is knowing, for Donghyuck had told him all about that failed Handshake he had with Mark. “Don’t worry, as time goes on, Mark will want to let you in.”

“I’m not concerned about that,” Donghyuck says as he pulls the hood onto his head and over his eyes, keeping it there with his fingers. He doesn’t want to let Renjun know that he’s about to cry. “I’m more concerned about the lives we’re not saving with each day we can’t complete a Handshake. I know that there’s Lys Somnium, and that Taeyong has gotten a new pair of Rangers to come helm Risus Heart, but it just fucking sucks knowing that if we can j–” 

The tears streaming down Donghyuck’s face choke him, and he releases the hold he has on the hood to paw at his eyes, to wipe those damned tears away. Warmth suddenly spreads from his knee and through his blurry vision, Donghyuck makes out Renjun gently rubbing circles on that joint. 

“Cry, Hyuck,” Renjun softly says. There’s a tiny, fond smile on his face and his eyes are glistening. Donghyuck wants to slap himself for causing his best friend to tear up as well. “Those tears are long overdue, aren’t they?” 

_They are_ , Donghyuck thinks as he unceremoniously launches himself at Renjun and proceeds to drench the poor boy’s shirt with his snot and tears. 

Yet, as Jeno and Jaemin return from training and Renjun pries himself from a seemingly sleeping Donghyuck to tend to them, Donghyuck realises that, perhaps, contrary to his pondering, Nagasaki _is_ different from Seoul and Busan after all. There most certainly aren’t any Renjun, Jeno, or Jaemin back in Korea.

And also that Nagasaki is different from Canada, too. 

After all, there’s no Wendy here.

**Author's Note:**

> hello there!
> 
> i know i'm supposed to complete [that other markhyuck fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040142) before starting on this but, uh, i'm still working on the last chapter so have this first? 
> 
> let's just say that i really wanted to post something on hyuck's birthday (so i can openly wish him a happy birthday) and i was so glad that i had already churned out 10k of this so this is why it's up here lol
> 
> as a fan (not avid, but quite) of the pac rim movies, this markhyuck is my baby so please do look upon this nicely and leave comments! you don't have to, of course, but i would greatly appreciate if you could i,i 
> 
> last chapter of this will be uploaded on mark's birthday! (because i'm a sap) 
> 
> once again, happy birthday to the boy who took my breath (and heart) away with that fucking high note in go!!


End file.
